[Gu] is never afme, I have come to see.

  Upon horseback, the [Dour Faced Strategist] returned. A depleted host at his back, sounding only the mud beneath their soles.

  The history of this victory was pin.

  How the [Gu] had gnawed as if these Martial geniuses were kindling or leaves to further a ravenous bze.

  “Venerable Lord,” I greeted.

  No head within this procession raised. Intent held only on the tail ahead, the wing or sodden pad.

  “Cultivator,” I called ninefold, drawing attention at the st.

  A daoist of heavy gaze. “Schor, Amituofo.” His word of parting.

  “I would know.”

  Four strides west, an immortal colpsed. The wisps of his [Spirit Boar], blue.

  [Dour Faced Strategist] stalled his partner, spared one gnce, and continued thereafter. And in this turn I saw the scars.

  The mask of bckened veins upon him, and the [Demonic Urges] that would not cim so stalwart a being. “[Asura],” he whispered, chilling the very air.

  I blinked, addressing next the pale-faced daoist at my side. “How many?”

  Poorly massed beneath skin, his own [Demonic Urges] bulged. A pureness of rage, and precursor to madness. “For a Lord among [Demons], only one was needed.”

  “Diversity of [Demonic] Attributes,” conversations with [Dour Faced Strategist]

  Wind ruptured the mountain, and golden fragments rained upon the area.

  His Path was [Winter’s] answer.

  To speak it aloud, to conjure its aspect into his [Dao], the toll had taken less than a single wave of the hand.

  Fu scraped himself to the balustrade. “We have gained an understanding of this [Trial], brother, sister,” he weakly gestured, alluding to the half-severed [Demon] across.

  The wind had punctured it in the same manner as his [Dao], bursting a hole through its internals so that naught but the edges remained.

  “Could this effect be multiplied? Or is this the limit that [Insight] will grant?” he pondered, drawing a viscous slew of bottled [Origin Q from storage to mend his injuries.

  “Four [Seasons] hold four faces. [Autumn’s] Decline might be repeated. Yet-”

  Before the Old One might answer, Shuidi and Fu nodded. “Repetition will not grant insight, and this opportunity should not be squandered. We will seek fresh understanding, saving Inevitability for a final resort.”

  “As you say, youngling.”

  Something had aligned within his [Dao], so Fu could feel. A confirmation for using his Path, perhaps, or the fledgling steps towards [Epiphany].

  Hushi stroked his face, as if possessing a whisker. Fu listened to the coming impressions.

  “Surface level [Dao]. Or aspects. To be Steadfast or to hold Propagation in mind. I fear the daoists or the more profound that we are to face,” he agreed.

  The arena dissolved at their crossing, unveiling an emptied doorframe from which a small vine sprouted.

  Fu put forth his palm, cradling a peach as it blossomed within. “It contains [Insight], no? In rejuvenation and knowledge.” His [Senses] confirmed it: some resonance of [Profundity].

  Sweet to bite.

  [Insight] +10

  A lesser inscription of [Ink], after which he progressed. Stranger yet was the unfolding scene.

  Of towers one expected an ascent, not the lounge that met his vision. The cultivators at rest on modest benches nor the [Demons] that loitered at the opposing side.

  The tension was palpable, both in [Intent] and posture.

  An open sughter this is not. There must be merit in staying our hand, or else the [Trial] enforces peace.

  His Wayward Winds were scattered about the crowd. All held multiple [Dao Principles], ensuring that they would not be defenseless during this contest, although the number showed that many had yet to emerge.

  If they would at all.

  Sparse energies circuted his [Core] from the peach’s imbibement, drawing him to a quiet corner.

  Our disciples can move without direction, this opportunity is as much their own as it is ours, no?

  Fu adopted the lotus, entering his [Conception Vessel].

  Inward gnces revealed his [Dao].

  That of [Wayward Breezes], [Plundered Breath], [Pooling Rain] and [Wind’s Present Whispers].

  [Peak], [Peak], [Peak], and [Late] accordingly.

  First had come their growth, harnessed through his seven [Seasons] of turmoil. Base repetition and [Prowess] in their manifestation would take him no further. To have the Heavens mark his insight as worthy of the [Third Pool] such [Principles] would have to align with his Path.

  No novel thought.

  Our weakness must be shored, lest we begin with a poor foundation.

  Attention turned to the heavens, where great clouds loosed their first droplets. His [Dao of Pooling Rain], yet of the [First Pool], made manifest.

  Upon the shore he embraced the raindrops, having them evoke the memory of all he gleaned in [Seasons] past.

  With it, he wound a story.

  The [Water Q within these drops, now at dance.

  Shuidi’s precision spawned a sea in which Fu’s vessel churned.

  A lesser ship, in combat with tumultuous waves and the breaking thunder above. Such images carried sensation- they emoted what a fisherman’s words might not, and what daoists or myriad cultivators attributed with a statement of their [Dao].

  Zhu’s words. The Cherry River disciple’s. Just two of a plethora that spoke aloud their condensed understanding.

  And perhaps because they could, their insight was more profound.

  Fu roiled the water in his palm and the story continued.

  Rain accumuted upon the deck. Winds shed. Thunder roared. The vessel groaned beneath such pressure.

  It became flotsam thereafter.

  Rain does not wither, but winnow.

  The vessel returned, conjured by Shuidi’s will.

  We might add this [Trial’s] lesson, but such external influence will only muddy all we have gained.

  Such thoughts were a half-truth.

  Fu bid the rain intensify, now a portentous cascade. An argument rose at Hushi’s interference, for his arm scoured the ship from sight. His impression one of chastisement and warning.

  “Remove memory from this insight,” uttered Fu. “Yes, brother, you are right. It is a bridge to sensation, no more.”

  All three had weathered such storms: felt this volume of rain upon their skin.

  It welcomed tranquility.

  They unmade that now. In pce of the story upon his palm, the entirety of his mental realm was engulfed.

  Then ceased.

  Rain broke. Fu bid it stall.

  It fell. It resumed.

  A thousand cycles passed.

  Ten thousand.

  The three put their eyes to the Heavens. “It is there. As the wind is. Force without beginning or end. Transformations of form beneath a facade of difference,” Fu said, caressing the droplets on his palm. “Material obstruct it. Thrusts, scatters, trickles, pours. Yet it remains the same… in primordial force. An unmolested whole, in pieces.”

  Rain ceased.

  One drip fell from his finger.

  Shuidi’s stalks glinted with [Profundity].

  “Flux. Undiminished,” he offered. “We must both embody and rid ourselves of beginnings and ends. Align with this cycle that shifts eternal. Cessation. Renewal. Weighed against immortality- mild steps upon a ceaseless path.”

  Gold-natured specks rose about his realm, and Hushi returned the rain.

  “In pooling rain, an accumution. In these wandering droplets, graduation. Amidst it lie the composites of change,” Fu mused, bringing his [Dao] to well.

  The Heavens stalled his cascade. His deluge suspended where it fell, decorating his realm in an unfathomable count of frozen droplets.

  Thick in [Profundity].

  “The nd stands ephemeral beneath impartial skies.”

  [Ink] burned.

  [Dao of the Ephemeral Cascade] [Second Pool] [Early]

  [Capacity] + 35, [Insight] +30 ??

  Wary eyes beset his rise, for the breakthrough of his [Dao] was swiftly noticed.

  Cultivators upon the Path of [Soul] and those beyond it were among the first to seethe in jealousy, although this stopped few from absorbing the [Profundity] it released. Many basked in the subtle halo of gold about him, dissipating as they drew.

  Fu deepened his douli, meeting the congratutions sent his way with small affectations and bare gestures. “A kindness,” here, and “Gratitude, cousin,” there, wishing to dismiss the attention as swiftly as able.

  His breakthrough was not solitary.

  In the lounge’s recesses, of which few existed, some hundred cultivators had processed the [Trial’s] insight. Jubint in comparison, and a reprieve from his own crowd as others moved to soak in the benefits.

  The [Demons] reacted in kind, albeit among their own ranks.

  Shuidi impressed her eagerness to test this new [Dao], urging to a central doorframe that, assumedly, they might progress the [Trial]. To see how their insight manifested was of great interest to all three, and yet none were foolish enough to unveil an untested power.

  Victory here is to be cimed by the immortals. Within a [True Lord Grade Realm] our chances are nil. Only when the [Trial] urges us onward will we rise, our matters remain here.

  Their brooch resonated, revealing Udvah’s position along the furthest wall. Zhu, and his Wayward Winds were simirly scattered. A guess might pce their arrival during his prior breakthrough, if one cared for such inconsequential details.

  “Brother,” he met.

  “Brother,” the Vajra returned.

  Kinship extended a subtle conversation. One of confirmation, assurance and as ever, Udvah’s mirth.

  Master Ban is mended enough.

  Fu accepted Udvah’s palm, whisking him into the [Dao of Sanctuary].

  No mere pagoda expanded here, and he mused that perhaps he had been negligent in asking on Udvah’s cultivation. Be it [Insight], the presence of [Consteltion Seeds] or a facet of [Dao] that Fu could not fathom: his companion’s concept was tangible.

  Peace instilled itself as Fu walked among ethereal orchards.

  The colours held a vibrancy unseen to him, glossing branch, cherry, blossom and swathes of pristine grass.

  All aglow in starlight, and at its pinnacle, a peak.

  The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] was needless, for a thought delivered him there without drain or effort.

  More mysteries exist beneath Heaven than grains of sand.

  While priority rested some ten paces distant, Fu could not help but marvel at the expansive nds of this [Dao]. A vast realm, contained upon the tip of a golden finger. To whom it belonged… to Udvah?

  Fu knew not.

  But the serenity about him, something aged. Profound.

  That which eased burden, fatigue and all duress- one shameful moment had his ponderance ascribe it to another’s power, certainly not the mirthful Vajra.

  Udvah embodies his concept with greater strength than our own. Our Inevitability is not equal to this. Could we conjure change or finality with the same prowess?

  His own [Dao] were of internal making, rebuffing external insight. He was long-closed from [Dao Treasures] and forged [Epiphany]. But here…

  Thirteen [Array] formations overid the finger’s tip. Octagonal lines a-whir with [Life Q and rejuvenative effects, coursing this power into the foci of Ban Bingbai’s seated form.

  Of all his disciples, medicinal or schorly, only Aarushi occupied the peak. “Senior Gao,” came her graceful bow, matched by the [Spirit Lizard] aside her.

  “Medicinal Head, I greet you. Your diligence in aiding Master Ban does not go unnoticed, he returned.

  A central pip radiated in their shared chests. That of Aarushi and Bingbai. Her [Consteltion Seed], the [Thousand Pairings Fruit].

  Were Fu of another Path, he might have longed for it.

  In simplicity, it prevented the degradation of another’s [Spirit] while the bearer yet lived. Aarushi had shared her treasure, split her pair of cherries to ward Master Ban from any ill effects.

  But so too did it nurture her with Qi, his Qi.

  Aarushi’s sleeve fred in modesty. “This sixty-first rate disciple is cking, her talents pale against Master Ban’s own techniques.”

  “He constructed these [Arrays],” said Fu, seeing in each inscription a precision unmatched. “Yes. That Master Ban does not yet walk is a matter we must pce trust in. His recovery is paramount. Yet, I wonder over the [Trial]. To idle brings ruin, and you must progress to continue this recuperation. Do you have faith in your [Dao], Aarushi?”

  Were such a question asked among cns or Sects… Hushi found joy in the scandal.

  Rouge flushed the Vajra’s cheeks. “Senior Gao, this sixty-first disciple’s [Dao] were granted by the Wayward Winds. [Demons] are mice before serpents.”

  Her Path will not lead her astray. [Prowess] and the techniques of ghosts bolster her foundation. I need not fret over those who do not solely follow the Martial Path, our tenure reassures me.

  “Recall, disciple, there are Heavens beyond Heavens,” he said, sparing a final gnce at his master.

  ??

  The day called for susurration, for that is what encircled his walk to the doorframe some minor hours ter.

  Outer disciples of the [Cherry River Pilgrim] cursed Fu’s passing. Half through shame, half through self-loathing. So mirrored in the Four Corners Coalition; lesser cns; vagrants of the Beggar Sect whose cking [Qi Suppression Arts] revealed much; and the gres of myriad, humbled [Spirit Beasts].

  [Demons] suffered not from this affliction of whispers, and paces from the doorframe, their trap was snared.

  “Winter’s child,” posed a melody of voice.

  Fu slowed. “Noble [Demon]. Do we hold business with one another?”

  Of elongated ear and jade-like, auburn flesh, this [Demon] stood tall. Female-seeming for the curve of her robes. The predatory [Gu] within her had Fu’s [Constitution of Grey Spectres] warble. His insubstantial flesh, disrupt and become solid.

  “Winds mark our business, Winter’s child. See it bend. Dance. Tug. One wisp knows the other..”

  One wisp knows the other.

  More than moments needed to pass in order to consolidate one’s [Dao]. But could he not feel it?

  Impressions of the [Demon’s] insight.

  Gold wound about her, a taper of ribbons from crown to toe. Her [Dao] released within a sliver of [Intent].

  “We tread a simir Path,” Fu realised. “Yet I would ask whether this has us as rivals or fellows?”

  The [Demon’s] power dissipated. “Why concern these matters with retion? It paints us as mutual benefits, Winter’s child. No more. No less. Begin this Trial at my side, lest such opportunity be squandered.”

  Shuidi’s [Senses] found naught recognizable within this foe.

  Old master?

  “Ever vexing. Quandaries, are all [Cores] of [Gu]. You have studied this, youngling. Recall it.”

  The expectancy weighed heavy. Although his potential foe made no act to disrupt or cajole him.

  All Fu knew of [Demons] was tome-read. Save for minor cshes upon his Path, the Heaven-reviled scourge walked not within the Four Corners Prefecture or Divine Clouded Mountain. Across the [Demon] Fronts of each cardinal direction, the same did not apply.

  Equivalent realms of cultivation. This is most prevalent. [Demonic Bloodlines], [Dao] and their inverted [Tyranny of Seasons] must be forgotten. [Foundation Realm] is not their beginning, nor is [Core Formation’s] spectrum their Path. A fool would cast stones against a hill, blind to the mountain upon its shoulders.

  “[Emerging Absence Stage]. Comparable to children at [Core Formation]. Caution in all things- and yet, cold fme does not temper iron.”

  The [Boundless Dao] are not lost on children. What view she holds on wind is no less than any other’s.

  Fu firmed his jaw. “If the [Trial] so accepts it, I agree to this offer.” The [Demon] led, vanishing through the doorframe first.

  Space warped.

  He emerged to find her ahead, readied upon the opposing side of his second arena. Pin in its vast grandeur of dome, ascent and featureless wall. When both hand and Hushi were upon the viewing balustrade, a wheel did appear.

  One resplendent in twenty three spokes.

  His recent breakthrough harkened. [Dao of the Ephemeral Cascade]. It was of small doubt that the released [Profundity] had called the [Demon’s] attention, inviting this challenge.

  If a muscle, then it is raw. Much as I wish to unveil it. No, my counter shall be of another. All those upon my [Ink] require furthering.

  “Please, the honor of commencement is yours,” he called, dipping his douli.

  So came [Spring’s] golden sun, twisted from the spokes.

  The [Demon] began her mantra. Four repetitions of a mounting verse. “The nd weeps in desotion. From four reaches, a mentation. Manifest the serenity of absence before growth. Witness the Dao of Stagnation.”

  Images of her [Dao] appeared with definite strength. Those golden lines comprising her image, dense and solid.

  A barren tundra.

  The [Dao of Stagnation]. Is this the hsiang sheng? Transformation’s opposite, does this arise mutually?

  His hand went to move. To manifest without thought.

  Hushi denied it.

  In pce of reaction, the [Spirit Octopus] pried Fu’s intentions aside. Each arm tasted at the [Demon’s] [Dao] and he sent forth his will.

  In tandem, Fu and Shuidi retracted.

  Golden mists overcame the manifested tundra, wisped from Hushi’s intent. Not as a bnket or mire, but in creeping lengths.

  Fu’s [Spirit] embraced the familiarity, though it was not of his conjuration. What y within, the [Dao of Plundered Breath], lent itself well to this stagnation. Without utterance the power cimed these [Demon’s] words, growing denser against their foe’s intent.

  For this [Dao] was of fear, and was stagnancy not a terror?

  “As the cycle repeats, as Heaven demands, know dread. Succumb not to hope, of prospects renewed in change, but in returns of previous failures. Face the impotence of turbulent futures and unseen Paths. [Dao of Plundered Breath], in [Spring], Fresh Omens.”

  The [Demon’s] fear did not rise, granting no tithe.

  Hushi was unfettered, eager for her retaliation.